


Thoroughly Documented

by HugeAlienPie



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Fights, Making Up, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Other, Paperwork, Spies & Secret Agents, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HugeAlienPie/pseuds/HugeAlienPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Fury, Melinda May, and Phil Coulson are among a very small number of people who know that S.H.I.E.L.D. Personnel Action Report 7B-90 is not an agency myth.</p><p>Fury and May are among an even smaller number who wish it were. Especially when their husband starts drawing on his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoroughly Documented

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/gifts), [the_wordbutler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wordbutler/gifts).



> **the_wordbutler:** And I respect your Fury/Coulson, but man, my Melinda/Fury headcanon is the strongest in the world.  
>  **Perpetual Motion:** Y'know, HAP hasn't chimed in for awhile. Let's just assign this to her.  
>  **HAP:** Well, okay, but you know my answer's gonna be Coulson/Fury/May. In, y'know, the interests of keeping the peace.  
>  **Perpetual Motion:** OH NO NOT THAT.
> 
> Pure, unbetaed crack. Not compliant with any Marvel canon. Anywhere. Ever.

"Agent Coulson, Agent May is requesting permission to enter," JARVIS announces.

Stark's head snaps up. "Really?" He sounds sort of excited. Natasha doesn't think he knows May well, but she's seen that they get along--for values of "get along" that mean he is irresistibly attracted to women who can kill him and she endures his existence better than she does a lot of people's.

Coulson looks up, too. "Really," he echoes, but from him it sounds more…well, if Natasha had to put names to the emotions in his voice, she would call them disdainful and incredulous.  She catches Clint's eye and knows he's thinking what she's thinking: _no good_.

"Well," JARVIS says, sounding apologetic, "perhaps 'demanding' is a better word."

Coulson snorts. "I bet it is." He rubs his forehead and then waves his hand resignedly at the ceiling. "Let her in, JARVIS."

The door opens, and a pissed off Melinda May enters the Avengers Tower common room. Granted, not a lot of people would be able to tell she's pissed off, because she looks the same as when she's happy, or grief-stricken, or bleeding from a gaping head wound.

May glides toward the couch Natasha's sharing with Coulson, her face an almost perfect blank mask, except for the slight downward cant of her eyebrows. Coulson straightens his spine, as if in answer to a direct challenge. They're already fighting—without either of them having said a word.

Clint shudders. "Swear to god, the temperature in this room just dropped, like, five degrees. Don't tell me nobody else felt that." He shivers again, and Natasha almost offers him a blanket until she realizes he's using the alleged chill as an excuse to slide closer to Sam, who smiles and lets Clint curl in under his arm.

Stark, whose brain is so far ahead of everyone else's that he frequently ends up behind, beams at May from the armchair he's slouched across in a way that makes Natasha's spine weep in sympathy. "Hey, Agent May! Great to—oh, holy shit." He looks from May to Coulson and swallows audibly as his brain registers the ominous potential of the present moment.

May ignores him anyway. "For real, Phil?" Her voice hardly deviates from its usual reasonable tones, but tension is obvious in every line of her body, if you're experienced in looking for it.

Which, of course, Coulson is. His body answers tautness for tautness as he replies, "Can I do something for you, Agent May?"

Her eyes narrow so infinitesimally you'd need a micrometer to measure it. She produces a StarkPad from somewhere under her clothes and holds it out. "A PAR 7B-90, Phil? Really?"

"Whoa," Clint breathes, leaning forward just enough not to jostle Sam. "I thought those were a S.H.I.E.L.D. myth."

"I wish they were," May says.

"What's a PAR whatever-whatever?" Stark asks. The S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel in the room exchange shifty looks. The problem's not so much that the information's classified as that it's really weird.

"Basically," Clint says, with a level of caution and tact in his voice that Natasha knows she would be incapable of, "it's Coulson's 'S.H.I.E.L.D.'s head dude in charge and two of its most badass senior agents gotta go work out their relationship shit' form. Assigns control of certain key agency functions to AD Hill til they get their heads outta their asses."

"Thank you, Agent Barton," Coulson says tersely. May tilts her head toward Clint, and Natasha sees a slight curve to her lips.

Stark's eyebrows lift. "You two fighting, Agent?" he asks Coulson.

On cue, Coulson's phone blares, incongruously, the opening theme to _The Hebrew Hammer_. Sam cackles and says, "Looks like all three of them are fighting."

Coulson answers the call with a furious swipe of his thumb. "Nick," he says, irritation lacing the syllable.

Because she's sitting next to Coulson, Natasha hears Fury bark, "Speaker!"

Coulson looks around the room before his gaze settles on May. "We're not alone," he says.

Fury's reply is indistinct but sounds like, "Do I sound like I give a fuck?" Coulson frowns, switches the call to speaker, and places the phone on the coffee table.

"Mel," Fury says brusquely.

She nods, and even though he can't see her, the gesture looks regal, rather than foolish. "Nick."

"Did you read the report?"

"Cover to cover." It seems a reasonable response, but Coulson winces. "Impressions?"

"Heavy-handed in the first two sections, but the conclusions are not without merit."

"Mmm," May says, narrowing her eyes at Coulson. "Baselessly harsh in Section 3." Coulson squirms; Natasha would bet every cent in Stark's pockets that Section 3 is Coulson's self-assessment. "Still an area for growth." Coulson makes a sound that's almost a growl, but May stares him down and he leans against the cushions, mouth curled in a frown.

"The drawings on the back were unnecessary," Fury says without much inflection.

"Yes," May agrees, "but they add atmosphere."

Fury sort of half-chuckles. "That they do. Conclusions?"

May looks at Coulson—really _looks_ , the kind of intimate scrutiny you can only put someone under after you've been together for a decade and a half. She smiles gently. "I'm taking it under advisement."

Coulson's breath escapes in a relieved snort. On the phone, Fury's does the same. Coulson never really relaxes—his training's too ingrained—but he seems to settle, something hard and wired for flight sliding away from him.

"Me, too," Fury says, finally sounding like a partner instead of a boss. "You coming home for dinner?" Natasha tries to imagine dinner around the Coulson-Fury-May dining table and pictures the three of them in complete silence, aggressively attempting not to let so much as an errant eyebrow twitch give away any highly classified details of their days.

May scoffs. "Damn right I am. I was promised lamb burgers."

"Phil?"

Coulson looks from the phone to May, who's standing with her hands clasped behind her back, giving him the space to make his decision. He smiles. "Yeah." He stands, scooping up the phone, though he doesn't yet hang up.

"Hey!" Stark yells. "Maybe I want lamb burgers, too!"

There's a stillness from Fury's end of the call. "Stark?" he growls.

"I did warn you," Coulson says easily, chuckling.

"Didn't warn me it was _Stark_."

"We'll see you at home, Nick," Coulson says, still smiling, and ends the call.

Coulson moves around the coffee table, adroitly dodging Avenger feet and squeezing Clint's shoulder as he passes. Once he's in front of May, he gives her one of the little smiles that barely moves his mouth but makes his eyes crinkle. She smiles back and extends her hand; he takes it without hesitation and leads her out of the common room, only bothering with a brief wave and a, "See you tomorrow morning" as the elevator doors slide shut in front of them.

Stark blinks and stares at the closed doors. "What the hell was that?" he demands.

Natasha _sees_ the smartass remark on Clint's tongue and glares at him. " _That_ was three intensely private people showing enough trust to have that conversation in front of us." She transfers her glare to Stark and amps it up by a million. " _Don't_ make that trust misplaced."

Stark holds up his hands. "Not a word outta me," he insists, scowling when Sam snorts.

"Think they're gonna go make up with silent, secretive eyebrow sex?" Clint asks.

Sam rolls his eyes and shoves Clint out of his lap. "I think they're gonna go eat lamb burgers. Eyebrow sex? Seriously, what does that even _mean_?"

"Nobody's ever apologized to _me_ with lamb burgers," Clint says, pouting.

"Right?" Stark demands.

Natasha and Sam look at each other and roll to their feet. "Come, Дети," Natasha says. "We’ll get you one from the hipster diner on the corner."

Clint and Stark start texting the rest of the team, in case anyone else is free to join them. On a whim, Natasha pulls out her own phone and texts May. _We're going to The Handlebar. If Fury's burgers are a bust._

The elevator is depositing them at the first floor when May replies, _If the burgers are a bust, we'll just skip to the make-up sex._

It makes Natasha feel secure in the future of S.H.I.E.L.D., knowing that three of its most respected members have such a good handle on their priorities.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i [tumbl](http://hugealienpie.tumblr.com)


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